


Make It Sting, Just a Bit

by orphan_account



Series: Louis/OC One Shot [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Other, Pain Kink, Scratching, a lil fluff with your porn, blowjobs yay, i feel like i need to clarify that there is NO scratching of the tattoo, no one catches them its fine, semi-public palming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-29
Updated: 2015-07-29
Packaged: 2018-04-11 21:43:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4453490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis gets a chest piece and likes the pain. It's up to his partner to take care of him, turn that pain into pleasure. In turn, he takes care of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make It Sting, Just a Bit

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this last night when I decided that instead of whining about how there's no Louis/ppl with vaginas stories, I should do something about it! So! This was born! Enjoy!

Louis has been lying on the sterilized bed under the needle for over an hour. The pain radiating throughout his entire chest has petered off to a sharp throb—easier to handle, but still a needle jackhammering into his skin.

His partner has been great, holding his hand all the way through it, reaching up to idly brush Louis’ hair from his face and his head twisted side to side in pain, throwing the locks around. The gentle touch, however, just reminded Louis that sometimes he liked pain; sometimes even asked for it. 

Louis hoped they wouldn’t notice the twitch of his fingers, the subtle shift of his hips on the small bed, the tiny whimper he released that would seem to the tattoo artist like a whimper of pain, not the thought of pleasure. Of course, they did notice.

“C’we get a break, please,” Louis ground out to the tattoo artist, his eyes not leaving his partner. The artist agreed after finishing up several lines beneath his nipple while his partner watched it pebble under the attention. When the artist announced he was heading to the bathroom, Louis trembled a bit in anticipation of what was to come. As soon as the bathroom door closed, he whined softly, squeezing his partners hand.

“Please,” he mumbled, pushing his hips up and opening his eyes wide, pleading. His partner shushes him, runs a hand over his sweaty forehead and Louis is feeling a million things all at once.

“You were so good,” they murmur to him, reassuring. “You held so still and your chest is going to look lovely when its finished.” Louis’ smile is serene but the next jerk of his hips is desperate.

His partner doesn’t leave him hanging any longer. They press their small hand to the growing bulge in his pants, reveling in the whine he releases. He opens his mouth like he’s going to speak and as much as they’d love him to be loud and lovely for them; they cover his mouth in a quick, gentle kiss to quiet him.

“Can’t be loud, sweetheart, your artist is in the next room,” they remind him and he give a sharp nod. He knows how to be good when it's asked of him. 

They grip him and he opens his mouth, releasing a silent keen. This is better than Louis ever behaves so his partner leans in close with their mouth against the shell of his ear. Just the feeling of their warm breath causes a violent shiver to go through his body and they wrap their fingers more firmly around his cock.

“Does it hurt, baby?” they ask and he nods frantically, pushing up into his partner’s hand. They click their tongue, a remorseful noise, and bury their nose in his slightly damp hair. “I know, darling, I know,” and he hisses, reaching up to grip the hand that’s rested on his shoulder for leverage.

“Hey love,” they murmur, teasing their fingers into his waistband, discovering that Louis has decided to forgo boxers today. He replies with a questioning whimper, rocking his hips up, quietly begging for more friction on his aching cock. “Gonna have to stop now,” they answer regretfully and Louis gasps out, “no” in the first real word he’s spoken in minutes. His partner nods, though, moving their hand to a more chaste place on his waist and press little kisses onto their boy’s cheek.

“You we’re good, and I’ll finish you off later,” they tell him, patting his dick one last time for good measure and Louis glares as he begins to come out of the trance he was in. He squeezes his partner’s hand, however and they exchange silly smiles. Louis knows that no matter how much power they’ve got and how sex-stupid they’ve made him; they’ve soaked their panties and are as eager to get home as he is.

Louis sits the rest of his tattoo like a champ. He’s got several things to look forward to after all; sex with his partner, beautiful new ink and a chance to whine and be pampered until his chest doesn’t ache and itch anymore. 

When it’s finished, everyone in the shop ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ over his new piece and Louis thanks the artist over and over again, shaking his hand and promising a hug when his chest heals. He pays and tips the man graciously and finally, blessedly, its time to go home. 

 

His partner is waiting in the car, has been since Louis finished and smiles when he climbs in the passenger’s seat and adjusts himself. The combination of his semi and his wince at the seatbelt across his smarting chest is admittedly hot for both of them.

“Quite a display in there,” he observes as they start up the car and begin to pull out of the lot. His partner shrugs and nods. He’s not wrong. “You wet?” he asks idly, tilting his head back like he doesn’t care either way. They shrug their shoulders like it doesn’t matter to them either.

“Bit,” they affirm, stopping accordingly for a traffic light. Louis hums and reaches over, under their skirt. His partner makes a noise of surprise—Louis smirks at this because, hey, it’s hard to catch them off guard—but lets him continue. “You’re not in charge,” they remind him and a quick glance at his face when they get a chance proves their theory that his face is pink and cowed.

“I know,” Louis mumbles and he sounds like defeat but that doesn’t stop him from rubbing a thumb over the front of their panties, confirming that they’ve soaked themselves all the way through. Though not surprised, Louis sucks in a breath and pulls away his thumb that comes back wet. He sucks it clean and cups himself, and it feels a little like heaven.

“Relax, babe, we’re almost home,” they remind him, but there’s no harshness in their voice and Louis chuckles. He doesn’t try anything else before they get home but once they hit the driveway and the car is in park, he’s racing over to the drivers side and dragging his partner out. 

“Desperate, Lou?” they laugh.

“Yep,” he confirms, pulling them into the house after missing the keyhole on the door several times before pushing it open. The two orange kittens are mewling for attention but Louis is chasing his partner up the stairs and they’re both giggling like mad and, well. The kittens can wait. 

Louis wastes no time pressing his partner to the bed and they mean to scold him but it’s immediately made clear that they don’t have to. Louis can’t lie down on top of them without causing more pain than the kind that gets him hard or risking marring his tattoo.

He stops to assess the situation but it isn’t needed. “Get on your knees, please,” his partner requests, and he drops faster than the bass in a dub step song. He looks up at them, awaiting instruction and cupping himself. It takes the edge off, a tiny bit.

His partner quirks a brow at him and tucks a finger under the hem of their skirt, lifting it just slightly. “Go on then,” they prod and Louis scrabbles forward. He yanks the ruined panties down in a moment and then his head is under their skirt, mouth searching.

His hand releases himself, grips around the backs of their soft thighs as his mouth finds its destination. He doesn’t dive right in, knows his partner well enough by now to know that after being wet this long, they’re hypersensitive. He, instead, licks the wetness from the tops of their thighs where its dripped down and sucks a mark, something for him to prod at later while they’re talking in bed.

After a minute or so of Louis giving his partner’s thighs ample attention, they put a hand in his hair and guide his mouth up, bringing it toward where they want it, need it. He mouths around their lips, sucking one into his mouth and groaning softly at the taste. He will never, ever fucking get sick of the taste. The tip of his tongue traces all around, everywhere but over his partner’s clit and the longer he puts it off, the more impatient they get.

“You still think you’re in charge, don’t you baby boy?” they inquire and he makes a hurt noise as they tighten their hands in his hair, just a bit. His cock twitches is his jeans that are now verging of painfully tight. Louis shakes his head no, and then vocalizes it as well.

After that, there’s no hesitation when he runs his tongue over their clit, feels them twitch around him. He smiles a bit, knows he’s good at it, fucking loves it. His lips wrap around their clit, sucking a bit and his partner is murmuring praise and he feels so high from knowing how good he’s making them feel. He’s got his face buried deep, his nose in the soft, damp curls and his tongue inside them, relentless. They’re moaning his name, tugging at his hair encouragingly and rocking their hips against his tongue. He tries to get as deep as possible, fingers digging into their thighs hard enough to leave bruises and fucking his hips in the air, wishing for friction.

“Gonna-,” they mumble and Louis moans inside them. 

“Fingers?” he half asks, half pleads because there’s nothing he loves quite as much as feeling his partner tighten around his digits as they come. 

They murmur their assent and he presses two fingers in, groaning at the soft, familiar feeling. He fucks into them, crooking his fingers, searching and is rewarded with the loveliest whine when he finds their spot. He quickly latches his mouth to their clit again, stimulating them inside and out. The feeling is fucking heavenly when they tighten around him like a vice, tugging his hair and flooding his mouth when they come with his name on their lips.

“Good, love?” he asks, ducking out from under their skirt because he always needs to make sure. They’re smiling dopily, nodding and pulling Louis up to his feet.

“Kiss,” they request, and he complies, pressing their lips together, sharing his partner’s wetness with them. They sigh, giggle into his mouth and he pulls them in close. They lock eyes with him and then look deliberately down at Louis’ crotch. “Want a little help, there?” they ask and he flushes, nodding hard.

“Lay down, top of the bed,” they order gently, but firm and he sits down and wiggles up the bed till his head bumps the headboard. He lays flat on his back with his head propped up on a pillow and watches them climb on the bed and crawl toward him. It’s fucking erotic and Louis is reminded for the thousandth time today how lucky he is to have his partner.

When they reach him, they lift his shirt from his body to look at his wrapped chest. They shake their head, tsk-ing and Louis frowns, doesn’t know what’s gone wrong.

“Can’t scratch up your chest, can I?” they ask redundantly but Louis wants to feel it hurt and he nods quickly. They laugh and shake their head, shutting him down. “You would regret it immediately and it would ruin your tattoo, silly boy,” and he knows they’re right. They nearly always are.

“Guess I’ll have to scratch you up somewhere else, hmm, darling?” and Louis nods frantically again. All he cares about at this point is some relief for his dick but he doesn’t mind taking a little detour for pain. His partner’s nails are painted a pretty green and filed sharp. He shivers in anticipation.

The nails trailing down his ribs and hips are light as a feather, at first, teasing. He huffs out a breath but won’t verbally complain, not with the power dynamic they’ve currently got. He’ll take what his partner gives him, what they think he deserves. As their nails trail back up to his ribcage, they dig in suddenly, deep and unforgiving. 

Louis gasps, whines, and after that, his partner is relentless, dragging the path from his ribs to his hipbones over and over again. Their nails press hard; leaving angry red marks and Louis fucking loves it. He loves that his skin is going to bear the evidence of what they did tonight; just like the mark he left on his partner’s thigh. He loves that they are the only one who’s ever given him exactly what he needs and the only one who’s ever made him feel vulnerable. He loves them.

When they finally pull away, worried that they’re going to draw blood—and leave Louis in even more agony when he inevitably showers later—Louis is smiling softly like he’s just been given a miracle. “Gonna suck you off now, okay?” they tell him and he heaves a sigh. It sounds a lot like relief. “You’ve earned it,” they reassure him with a small kiss on his belly.

They shimmy down the bed and settle in between Louis’ legs. He’s trembling and he looks so debauched and beautiful. A touch with a fingertip tells his partner that the marks on his ribs are still warm and it sends a jolt of arousal to their core. Slowly but surely, they tug down his jeans, reminded that he isn’t wearing pants and take in the sight of his cock.

Louis is hard as a rock, shamelessly. He squirms under his partner’s gaze and, god, he’s so lovely. They reach forward, brushing a finger up the vein on the underside of his cock. Louis whines and pushes up his hips, not far from begging.

His partner moves further down the bed, mouth watering because, fuck, he looks so good. Louis is dripping, flushed and so, so desperate. They waste no more time and lean down, taking him into their mouth. Louis forces himself to stay still, knows if he takes their hair in his hands in a moment like this, they probably won’t stop but they’re going to make it extremely difficult for him.

They mouth at the head, sucking it down, tasting. It’s familiar, tastes like home in the most perverted sense of the word, and the thought motivates them to take him deeper. They’re growing damp between their legs again, and—if they’re honest—they’re always at least bit wet for Louis when it comes to making him feel good. When they begin bobbing their head up and down slowly, taking him a bit deeper each time, they tap his hip with the tip of their finger.

Louis almost falls apart at the gesture; it’s the signal that tells him that he’s allowed to fuck their mouth. He’s still gentle when he begins to thrust because they’ve been so good to him all day and in the back of his mind he still wants to be good for them. He thrusts shallowly and coupled with their mouth sucking him in, opening their throat to him, he begins to shake with the beginning of his orgasm.

He finishes in his partner’s pretty mouth, gasping their name, fingers tangled in the navy bed sheets. “C’mere, love,” he mumbles, pulling them up, careful to avoid his chest. They kiss slowly, languidly and taste each other in the same breath.

 

Afterward, they lie beside each other, breathing heavily and Louis’ partner turns to him. “Gotta shower alone,” they instruct, kissing his shoulder at the pout that appears on his lips. “You need to be thorough with your tattoo and your pretty scratches,” they remind him, brushing their fingers over his hipbone. Louis’ hisses, nods, gives them another kiss.

Showers are quick, regardless—even if Louis’ partner gets themself off again because they can’t help it. The sheets are new when Louis comes out with the towel wrapped around his waist.

Their kittens are at the foot of the best, snoozing, and content and Louis is so completely happy. Soft and sweet and smelling clean, the two curl up in their bed, careful of Louis’ new ink. “Thanks for today,” Louis mutters into their hair, giving it a kiss. “Took care of me in so many ways.”

They flush, hiding their face and kiss the cool, soft skin of their boy’s shoulder. “No problem,” they reply, tangling their legs. “We take care of each other.” Louis nods, pulls his partner closer.

“I love you so much,” he tells them, staring up at the ceiling. 

“I love you most,” they reply, eyes closed, feeling safe and happy. 

 

They’re both smiling and it’s as easy as breathing when they succumb to sleep.


End file.
